CANTON SKETCHBOOK: Adrift among Zooey's balloons

Only in the Mendillo household could a gaggle of stray balloons cause so much excitement.

Bernard Mendillo

I had gotten up early—quarter to seven—because I had to take Ben to cross-country practice and Canton High School.

I was in the second-floor bathroom, shaving, contemplating just how I could be on Medicare while my son enters freshman year in high school, when I noticed something bright outside the window.

Hanging from a branch of a tall pine tree, was a bunch of balloons.

Maybe 20 of them. Maybe more.

All bright colors.

Tied to each other with white ribbon.

They were simply there. Like you see a robin one morning on the lawn - and you realize it's spring. The balloons simply existed. They could have been there for 20 years. There was no movement. They hung still the early morning summer air.

They were instant friends.

I went downstairs to make coffee and was sitting on the porch with a hot mug, sipping while contemplating how I could be on Medicare and have a daughter entering first grade.

"We have balloons!" Bella screamed, running out onto the porch.

"You saw them?" I asked.

A ridiculous question, considering her statement.

"Who's Zooey?" Bella asked.

Written on some of the balloons was the phrase, "Zooey's First Birthday."

"She must be a little girl who lives around here somewhere. She must have had a birthday party. And those balloons got loose and came over to our house."

"Can we keep them?"

"Sure. They found us."

"Can we take them down?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"I think we should leave them right where they are. I think it's the way it's supposed to be."

So Zooey's balloons remained where they were for two days. Every time I saw them, I smiled. The bathroom—when the sun was just right in the sky—glowed in a soft reflection of light. Robin told me to take pictures to try and capture the moment. I did. But Zooey's balloons were not going to let themselves be captured on anything as mundane as digital film.

I did my best and then texted the photo to Hollie and Chris.

"These balloons," I wrote, "arrived unexpectedly at our house. We see it as a sign of good fortune. Except, of course, for Zooey."

On the third day, I woke early again to find that the balloons were on the ground. Their helium souls had lost some lift and the multi-colored array of plastic and ribbon lay peacefully atop the mulch.

It only took Ben a moment to say, "Let’s put them up on a tree and pop them with my airsoft gun."

"Sure," I said.

Balloons are balloons and boys are boys.

It didn't work.

Zooey's balloons would not go peacefully into that long goodnight.

The airsoft BBs bounced right off them. Even at point-blank range.

Serves us right for turning our backs on fate.

Eventually I took them down and managed to stuff them all into a large contractor trash bag and placed them out on pick-up day with the garbage.